Usually the dark mornings are too cold to open the door to the screen porch attached to the area by the coal stove and rocking chairs. The cat is let out to hunt– hunt as in watch, prowl, and run but never catching. The door is then shut quickly to keep out the frigid air, and the screens contain the cat until she’s ready to return inside.
But this morning a need for fresh air makes me keep the sliding ajar to hear the birds that have returned from warmer climates. How their morning tweeting has been missed during the dark tomb-like winter. The morning chorus inspires, the orchestra full with the deep bass drumming of geese honking by. Now on the look-out for the first robin, walks are inviting.
Interspersed with periods of deep sleep, reminders of the past creep up with an agonizing punch keeping sleep at bay. A tiny change in routine such as all three grand-children staying for the evening catapults my ‘fight or flight’ mode into the vortex of hypervigilance. After they leave sleep would not come until three hours past the usual time along with twice the usual dose of a sleep aid.
The next day is quiet, languishing on the couch keeping my body, mind, and emotions from further assault. Tears of anguish find their way down my cheeks. Simply having the grandchildren does this?
Worries over my son and the mistakes I made during his growing up years made my mind spin and my body go on alert. It was out of my control. Once the alert system is activated only medication brings it down.
The need for self-forgiveness continues, along with being the best possible mother, grand-mother, wife and friend. It is all I have power over. I do not have power over the past, but how to prevent it from haunting me so?